Butterfly
by burrblefish
Summary: Konoha Academy, home to the top ten percents' successors, is a high school made solely for the elite. Sakura Haruno, heiress to her parents' powerful corporation, prefers her own straight path away from business, thus making her nothing more than a forgettable wallflowerㅡwell, until some blonde idiot decided to spill ramen on her. :: MultiSaku AU
1. prologue

**•** **Rated T for language. May increase in the future!** **•**

* * *

 **BUTTERFLY**

* * *

 **prologue**

* * *

Sakura fiddled with the strap of her deep cocoa-colored leather and gold bag, a little anxious about the ride to school. She turned, staring blankly up at the ceiling of her limousine. But the anxiety, it wasn't anything new—she was anxious about going every single day.

It wasn't that she was bullied when she got there. Gathering the future of the elite in one school made it less about education, more about social competition.

 _Prissy_ , the lot they were. Toxic, sometimes, full of fraudulent smiles and gestures of friendship. That was the social ladder built by the spoon-fed and gold-raised.

Left and right, designer labels and top of the line technology was tossed from wall to wall. It was the pinnacle of elitist education; there, at Konoha Academy.

Despite the lack of bullying, it still wasn't the nicest of places, and rather than go, she wished she could stay home and tend to the many books on her bedside table. Unlike the rest of them, there wasn't the incessant urge to participate in the competitive cash complex—girls always fought over who had the latest fashion and boys fought over the latest shoes or phones or laptops. But there was no physical bullying, only status rankings among the students.

Fighting was sugarcoated almost. So sweet, it gave cavities, and ulcers, and sometimes required whole, figurative stomach-pumps combined with a root canal. This, Sakura was not particularly interested in. Though her family was fully capable of nabbing that Chanel purse that came out two minutes ago, she preferred not to. Occasional indulgence suited more than constant indulgence. Worldly possessions only had so much meaning.

Things like that mimicked her deepest wishes to become a doctor than the head of her family's company. Materialism was a vice and a temptation that she'd found immunity against.

 _Although..._

Although she was built for things _greater_ than that.

* * *

In minutes, cutting through her thoughts was the sight of the campus buildings. White, tall, marble buildings, designed with patterns made of nearly pure gold. She could barely spot the tall, lavish entry gates and the water spouting from the fountain in the center of the front.

Heaving a very low, very quiet sigh, our protagonist leaned deeper into the comfort of her seat, brushing aside flyaway hair. Her chauffeur, hearing those vague sounds of contempt, glanced at her through the rearview mirror.

"Haruno-sama?" he quipped, continuing to switch his eyes between the road and the reflection.

Sakura redirected her stare down to her shoes as she gave a quiet, polite murmur. Kotetsu didn't mind the action much; an introverted thing she was. She'd been that way since meeting her all those years ago, tasked with driving the young heiress wherever she wished.

But unlike the many women her age, she asked very few of him.

Though she was quite rich and well off, since birth, her family taught her to love everyone and everything equally. The Haruno clan, a curious entity, was _highly_ reserved and shied away from the limelight that richer people craved. High class families loved grand parties and press coverage, and the Haruno clan preferred warm celebrations at home combined with the occasional massive bash.

Yet, it was sometimes hard to believe it wasn't like that from the start.

* * *

You see.

Master Kizashi Haruno inherited a large sum of money from his wealthy grandparents, who made their fortune through hard work and labor since young. As a result, he had more than he knew what to do with, and being young, handsome, and rich, he spent his days doing nothing but tossing bill after bill out the window. He could burn piles of money, and it didn't matter.

With the money his grandparents gave him, combined with both his parents upholding the companies that his elders once started, he had cash that he could _shred_.

Oh yes—young, handsome, rich, and unfortunately, _incompetent._

Because he was born spoon-fed, he refused to work for anything, and it didn't help that his parents were rarely at home because of their jobs. They weren't there to reaffirm the lessons once given to him.

It was his grandparents who raised him in his youth with the correct message. Losing them at eight years old meant he had no reason to continue trying in earnest, and the things he was taught loss relevance. He turned to thinking life was a game that he could win with the right amount of zeroes in the bank.

Years after high school graduation, he only grew in arrogance, in crudeness, in behavior considered disrespectful, uncaring, _ignorant_. If Kotetsu remembered the story correctly, it was the current Mistress Haruno—Mebuki-sama—who appeared at one of his many parties, that brought him out of the constant nightlife.

It was she who taught him to cherish what was lost, not try to numb it with booze and sex. Years of being together, him chasing her in complete obsession, she claimed she didn't like pompous men who spent their lives doing nothing for the world.

He changed thereafter, and had also found that he had a knack for persuasion, thus becoming an extremely capable business man.

 _"It was better late than ever,"_ he would always say when he told the story, cradling his wife in his arms.

When it was time, he asked for her hand in marriage. He loved the powerful, hard working, generous woman that taught him how to both love and lead.

Together, they took over his parents' companies and built a beautiful empire, of which was surrounded by zero scandals and zero employee dissatisfaction from that point on. They created their business with big hearts and strong hands, doing the same in the household.

Kotetsu and his brother, Izumo, fell in love with the family dynamics inside the estate, and found that they weren't the only workers who felt the same. No worker had quit or been fired out of anger; people were let go or left when opportunities brought them elsewhere. Always did they say that should they return, they would seek work in the estate again, and the Harunos time and time again would welcome them back. It was the job of a lifetime finding work with people who didn't treat you like you were below them when the social ladder deemed it so.

When out popped Sakura, Master Haruno left the last of his past behind and completely sobered up, teaching his daughter what his wife—and his grandparents, fondly—taught him years before. He showed her the beauty of humility, power, _love_.

* * *

So here she sat in the back seat, and Kotetsu stared at her reflection in the mirror. She was looking down at the floor of the limousine, quiet and still, and he internally sighed at the guarded expression.

Age lessened the shyness, but the introverted nature stayed.

Yet it was still pure blessing she took after her parents' humility and kindness.

The workers might've been used to the way the Haruno heads would treat them, but the fact that their daughter took after their humble ways was incredible. People born into the high class tended to behave waving around a pretty, gold spoon.

But like the rest of them, she dined with regular silverware and glasses. To her, they were still eating all the same—still _human_ all the same.

 _A diamond in the rough._

"Haruno-sama," he called once again as he separated himself from his musings. He saw her blink, then glance up towards him beneath lashes, behind a pair of glasses. He'd only seen her eyes clearly once before, when she attended a business luncheon a few months ago, and it was probably the closest thing to Mother Nature's trees he'd ever come close to.

"Yes?"

His lip quirked. "We are nearing the school."

"Right." Her little nod and smile was rather sweet. "Thank you."

With that, Sakura smoothed her black pleated skirt, brushing long fingers along the back of her knees to ensure that it fell down rather than be folded up. She chose to wear the longer skirt, the one that cut below her knees, because it was getting chillier in mid-September.

She then adjusted her black button up at the collar, tugging on the edges of the red bow tightly, then continued to pull the sleeves of the white, black-lined blazer down to cover her wrists properly.

"We're here."

The pinkette pressed on the buttons of her bag to make sure it was closed, then scooped the strap over her shoulder. She tucked braided pale pink hair behind her ear again, taking Kotetsu's hand when he opened the door and offered it to her.

He bowed slightly, and she returned it, pushing slipping glasses up the bridge of her nose, then began walking in the direction of where all the other students were moving, past the golden gates, past the marble fountain, right into the great oak doors.

* * *

Fourth period adjourned, Sakura found her way to her favorite spot somewhere in the back of the grand academy, underneath a patch of trees. There was a wooden bench present there, and she chose to sit there nearly every day.

The moment she rested, her entire body made gratuitous rumbles of satisfaction. She exhaled deeply through her nose, digging black Mary Janes into the grass and pushing forward so that her body sunk against the bench.

She was now nearly laying, neck and head on top of the back of the bench, staring absently into the sky. It was a cheerful blue hue, dotted with wispy white clouds and shrouded by the thicket of auburn leaves she peeped through.

There was a very faint, omnipresent buzzing of people chattering somewhere (anywhere, really) from and around the school—the entire academy had lunch at the same time. The campus was big enough for such a thing, and even teachers needed a good break. Eight periods with snot nosed rich brats was enough to make anyone want to kill anybody.

Sakura chuckled at that thought, closing her eyes.

She was stressed out.

A junior at Konoha Academy, the most prestigious, high class school for the top ten percent of the population. The richest of the rich were here, and it was purely by pay to attend.

Against her wishes, her father insisted she attend the school. He knew she was highly capable of something one day, and though the school implied lives in business careers, it was open to anything and everything for the purpose of concentrated companies (such as the Inuzuka and their veterinary hospitals). There was even a French Cuisine class taught by members of the Akimichi clan.

Personally, her stress took root on her first day to school. It was about two years ago and at the time, she had absolute fear in coming. Prada bags and Vera Wang heels click-clacked around every corner. The entire place had reeked of pretentious disregard of the world outside of the ten percent.

Being taught to be humble, only preferring to indulge occasionally, caused her to be extremely outcasted from the many heirs and heiresses that were in attendance. There was a rift between the superficial and the real.

And if it wasn't already hard enough finding common ground, she didn't care about inheritance. No sir—she'd help advise her parents maybe, but pretty much cared little about becoming the company's head. Not when she could be a doctor for the main, Haruno-owned hospital in the chain. _Help people_ , she'd tell herself, _rather than order them around._ This further divided her and her more business-savvy peers, despite that natural talent for company work.

Luckily though, she was rarely ever noticed. She was shy as a turtle on first day icebreakers when they introduced themselves, but by thirty minutes into the period, teachers and students alike usually forgot who she was.

Some members of the staff praised her for her intellect, but she had little regard for academics with Nara, Uchiha, and Hyuuga topping the charts. She stopped trying as hard after the second test that freshman year and settled for top ten rather than top three.

You would think she would be singled out by the way she wore her uniform longer and cleaner, but many upperclassmen did that. The hair would've rung an even bigger alarm.

But with people having blue, green, orange, purple hair—well, pink tended to just be another color in the rainbow.

So she sidled by unnoticed.

Sakura inhaled deeply and fought a deep groan or the urge to slap her forehead, unnerved by even being here and not being elsewhere—maybe at home among her books ranging between Shakespeare's plays and Plutarch's pieces, to medical texts on the human body.

Luckily, this place—the spot she sat in—was a small, secluded area. It helped pull her away from the artificial smiles in school and felt a little like home.

The back of the campus wasn't particularly opulent compared to the rest. Yes, the tall marble buildings and golden outlines were right before her, but there were no windows and no statues and no fountains like the front. Only a shaded walkway supported by marble columns.

The patch of land she sat at was simple and reminded her of the gardens at home. It was the only place that didn't look like it cost five billion just to look at. She loved it.

A high, shrill sound broke through her blank train of thought and she glanced in the direction of which she came from. That was the bell that ended lunch break, and so she gathered up her belongings and tossed the wrapper of the melon bread she forgot she ate in her absent ponderings.

Getting up, little Haruno dusted the autumn leaves off her skirt, and made way to art class.

* * *

Spend time being forgotten.

Live discretely, for soon, there would come a day where the name "Sakura" would be tacked onto the Haruno clan legacy right with her parents', and then running from attention would prove fruitless. Even if she wanted to work as a doctor for Haruno-owned Konoha Hospital, that surname wouldn't protect her from spotlights.

"Doctor Haruno" would still be associated with "Master Haruno" and "Mistress Haruno."

Enjoy it now. Enjoy peace _now_.

For two years since entering the academy, going by unnoticed, things rarely ever took turns in her life. She was always walking in a slow, straight line towards the inevitable, content with the pace.

So.

When a certain blond boy—hurriedly on his way to class after lunch with his ramen cup in hand—had barreled into her head on, she knew walking in a straight line wasn't going to keep happening. She eventually was going to take a turn, _yeah_ _—_

—but she didn't think that she would make a complete _one eighty_.

The most important thing following the collision was after the realization that his ramen was warmer than warm, not scalding hot, but enough to leave a red mark on her leg and some broth stains on her white blazer. Apologizing with the force of a thousand suns, said blond thought _nothing of anything_ , dropped the cup, and scooped her up bridal style.

Sakura didn't even have time to protest, instead stuck on being in extreme shock. The boy, all the while still screaming apologies, carried her up to the aid office. It was different from the nurse's in that it was a room where medical supplies were readily available for things like bumps and bruises and not checkups.

She groaned as she was dropped unceremoniously onto the table while the blonde—whom she barely could identify—shuffled throughout the entire medical supply to locate the cotton swabs and bandages.

"I-I'm so sorry! I can pay for dry cleaning and pressing- Actually! No, how about I buy you a new uniform?! I can buy you a whole years' worth- just don't tell my dad; _god_ he'd probably kill me-"

He babbled hurriedly, knocking over boxes and bottles of antiseptics in a frenzied rush. Man, if his dad ever found out he spilled ramen on someone _again_ , he'd lose his gold card privileges.

Meanwhile, Sakura wasn't listening. The room was covered in beefy brown stains and she touched her face in empty confusion.

Oh, that's what it was.

Ramen broth _aaaall_ over her glasses. No wonder why she couldn't tell who he was.

"Oh! Here it is!"

Now, imagine the surprise on Naruto's face—he just found the swabs, the disinfectant, the bandages, and was rushing to help the person he hurt, when he froze.

She removed her glasses, steadily wiping off the muck stuck to the frames.

But all he could see were the deepest, richest, most mesmerizing shade of emerald he had ever seen.

* * *

 **Aaaaand there you have it, folks**

 **I tend to see "poor girl, rich school" stories literally everywhere. They're not bad, but I wondered what it would be like if she was rich too, with the same upbringing as everyone else but a different approach to the wealthy class. I wanted to explore a dynamic where there _is_ no social divide, only a personal one. A place where a classic school story can be ventured into, all on even playing field.**

 **Thus, this was born.**

 **I'm not looking for many plottwists or drama or anything beyond what's romance-based. Expect this to be a lighter read built on interaction and affection and all those classic fanfic tropes (for pure fun, of course).**

 **This day, 11/19/18, I've edited this chapter and turned it into a prologue. Not the nicest, but perhaps I can integrate some of my newer writing skills into this and manipulate the direction of the story.**

 **\- burrblefish**


	2. one

**•** **Rated T for language. May increase in the future!** **•**

* * *

 **BUTTERFLY**

* * *

 **one**

* * *

The blonde boy stood completely and utterly still for fear that if he so much as breathed, he would wake up from this dream. Green—so damn green—it was like it wasn't even _green_. Oh man, was that even possible?

Seconds that felt like minutes passed till he finally made a noise. "Woah…" He regretted it immediately when it caused her to slip her glasses back on.

He snapped to attention as she stirred. Naruto, attempting to regain his scattered composure (and mask it for that matter), scurried over to her side with all the medical supplies he held.

Sakura's gaze followed him as he clumsily scampered to stand next to her. A fleeting chuckle passed through her head. He was kind of cute—in a ditzy, moronic way. Naruto didn't seem to notice the burden of her gaze yet, busy opening the ointment bottle and fiddling with the cotton balls.

The pinkette took that moment to truly scan his features. He was tall and masculine, blessed with sun-kissed skin the shade of a beachside tan. His eyes, though nervous now, were a shining cerulean—the epitome of where the sky meets the ocean. That impressive physique was topped with hair colored like a sunflower, bright and jolly.

He radiated waves of positivity and cheerfulness—a teenage boy, youthful and carefree still in the beginnings of his prime. It was then that something clicked. She unconsciously furrowed her eyebrows.

 _I've seen him before…_

But where?

She mulled over that thought, not realizing that he finally felt the weight of her gaze.

The male, feeling her stare, looked over his shoulder briefly at the pinkette.

She appeared to be in deep thought, ignorant of him looking back at her. Though he was probably the single-most loudest person in all of Konoha, at this moment his lips were sewn shut.

Sure, her hair was some exotic shade he'd never seen before. But as of that moment, he wasn't entirely certain if it—or _any_ of this, really—was real.

The true slap across the face were her eyes. Damn...

Those wide circles of green honestly looked like the deepest parts of the forests; the areas that received rain day and night, feeding the trees and birthing rich, lush foliage.

Yeah, that was it. That was what they looked like.

Currently though, they were covered, and he noticed that she was quite pretty overall—the kind of pretty that accompanied warmth and endearment, tucked in deep corners of the library and buried between pages of a novel. Soft, secretive.

It was a special kind of beautiful.

"...What year are you in?" He suddenly felt the need to ask something—anything—that would break the staring contest. Unfortunately, his prepubescent voice cracks decided to play. His speech was a little broken out of pure embarrassment, which grew when he realized he sounded like a _twelve year old boy_.

To his greater horror, he felt a little more self conscious when her critical gaze roamed across his shoulders, nervousness drenching his forehead.

 _Oh dear god, please let me live long enough to talk to this pretty girl without looking totally stupid._

Sakura parted her lips slightly to speak. "I'm a junior," she replied shortly. He recognized the sprinkle of hesitation in her tone.

Was she uncomfortable with him?

Sobered, he replied carefully.

"I'm a junior too," he said, finally calming his shaking hands as he handled the first aid equipment. He found the medical tongs and picked up a cotton ball with it, dipping it slightly into the burn ointment.

Sakura, seeing as he was prepared, peeled her knee high socks down to her ankle. She then extended her arm, reaching to take the tongs.

But the boy, instead of handing it over, knelt—grasping her ankle in a strong, gentle grip. He lifted the slim, pale leg slightly and turned it over a few degrees, searching for and spotting the reddened patch of skin along the side of her calf.

Out of sheer surprise, a sprinkle of pink crossed the pinkette's cheeks.

 _I-I could've done this for myself!_

This position was a little...

Oblivious to the half-shrieks happening in her head, he mustered another handful of courage to introduce himself to the pink-haired enigma. With a grin, he offered his name. "I'm Naruto. Naruto Uzumaki," he said as he worked on dabbing the irritated area. He glanced up slightly beneath long lashes, the grin flashing along his lips again. "What's yours?"

She thought for a moment over whether or not she should give her name, but figured he was going through so much trouble just to fix her up. _So_ —"Sakura Haruno."

It was only a fitting name, he figured, and familiar, too. He'd have to ask his dad later. Nodding this time in acknowledgement, Naruto finished off treating her wound with a bandage.

The blonde boy straightened back up and put the tongs down beside him, flashing pearly whites. "There we go, all patched up!"

She nodded in gratitude, inspecting the security of the bandages before dragging her sock back over skin. Sakura then stood off the table, brushing her skirt flat to straighten the wrinkled pleats.

Before anything though, the boy remembered the ramen broth on her white blazer. They showed like nasty tea stains and knew it would be near impossible to get it out (if his first hand experiences were anything to go by). Guilt tickled him as he thought of a way to make it up to her.

"Sakura-chan, can I do anything about the blazer? Maybe we can have lunch together tomorrow during break? Where do you usually sit?" he asked, holding her hand up in his fist. His eyes held a twinge of hopefulness. She visibly tensed, hesitating at the physical contact, but he pretended not to notice. " _Please?_ We can even stop by the tailor and I can buy you a new uniform if you want!"

Eyebrows furrowed in contemplation.

 _He did carry me all the way over here and treat me…_

Yes, indeed.

After he said his name, she remembered precisely who he was. Rich, up in the top five percent alongside her. Wonderful parents, grand parties, and he was kind and loud and a little bit of a doof. He had good intentions—rare in that school.

Hell, he was offering to spend money on a uniform for her, which peaked at about a good two grand per set. That shit wasn't exactly _cheap_.

Should she take his offer?

She didn't really know. On one hand, there was comfort in being left alone. On the other...

 _He had good intentions._

She groaned internally. _Dammit._

"Okay."

* * *

Getting ready for school the next morning wasn't the same. It was like waking in a new body, filled with new experiences, new expectations, and honestly? It wasn't a bad feeling. Dramatic as it was, the small fidgets were undeniable and it was all so...new?

And just...

— _scary_.

Sakura had to catch herself several times—twice did she notice the extra minutes used on fixing her braid, three times spent spiffing up the uniform. In frustration, she yanked apart the elastic and re-twisted the french cord the _right way_ and ignored the itch to mess with it further. Tying her ribbon a little _too_ tight in irritation, she stepped out of the bedroom that morning in a daze.

Breakfast was a quiet affair; dad was probably in the office already and mom wasn't anywhere in sight (maybe in the gardens or something). _That_ proved true when the blonde-haired woman stormed by to drop a sloppy kiss that left an odd smudge on the glasses before Sakura left, screaming about "azaleas needing to be entirely uprooted and moved."

 _Alright then..._

Walking into the limousine followed by the ensuing silence was normal. Same with the early-bird thoughts.

Just... just with the addition of a sunflower somewhere there.

* * *

Mornings consisted of homeroom with Kakashi, up on the second floor in the west wing. The trek, like every other day, was filled with the hustle and bustle of school life. Prone to getting a little throttled around in the sea of students, our protagonist tended to stick by the sides, pressed into the walls to speed along faster.

There was the occasional nudge against the shoulder, or the snag of another purse on hers, but all-in-all, it was relatively _normal._

The back of her mind tickled with anticipation for lunch hour, but it had to be ignored in favor of making it to class. Though chronically late was this teacher, Sakura still preferred being tucked happily in her assigned seat before someone else shuffled desks and chairs around to sit with their friends.

Finding the open door, she trudged inside and bumped slightly into someone standing past the threshold.

"Ah... I'm sorry," she apologized, clutching her textbook tighter. Lengthy strands of bistre moved aside, swaying with the head turning to look over the shoulder. Hyuuga-born moonshine eyes gazed down.

A look of ice was previously there, thawing into simple, passive stone. Then a short nod.

"No. I apologize," came the tenor of a male voice, before he side-stepped to make room. She peered at him, the red color of his ribbon indicating junior class, then simply shook her head to wave off his apology in favor of her own.

Inclining the head, she continued to walk, finding solace in the third row back, right beside a wide window.

"Neji?" was the new voice entering the barely populated room, but little Haruno cared more about opening up the pages of her binder, reorganizing papers for later classes.

Neji Hyuuga's snow-born eyes shifted away from pink, down to his cousin passing through the doorway. The young woman of navy-tinted hair furrowed her brows, fidgeting with the strap of her purse.

"What are you doing here?"

He paused slightly. "I was looking for Uchiha."

"Oh..." She rustled. "Um. He doesn't come for some time... Why?"

"We've a presentation today." And then he shook his head. "I'll talk to him later instead. Have a good day."

"Ah... y-you too-!" But he was already out the door.

Sakura observed this in detached silence, flickering between the departing Hyuuga and the current heiress. Sorting papers didn't take very long for an organized student such as her, so she settled for a nameless novel, peering above the pages at the newcomers now making their way into the room. By then, Hinata had since sat down.

Two came in, then three. Then another duo, then more. The Nara heir entered, flanked by Inuzuka and a guy in glasses—was that Aburame?

Pretty Ino Yamanaka passed, all golden-strung blonde and beach-kissed skin, taking great pleasure in topping one of the desks at the back, much to Inuzuka's great delight. And thus began the usual morning of shameless yet meaningless flirting.

Four more, then two, then another one, one, one—then came the youngest Uchiha. He swept by, all passive grace and beauty, finding his seat in the center back before the napping Shikamaru. Ino nudged away Kiba, who didn't look offended, and switched to take the rightside seat next to the raven-haired CEO-in-training.

Though he never deigned her with replies, he also never told her to leave like how he'd shoot away the hoards of admirers. Perhaps this, Sakura figured, was the extent of his toleration—that little fact that he surrounded himself with close, powerful people rather than the random guy or girl with extra bank. Other members of the top five percent, she'd realized some time ago—that was his entourage preference.

Sakura (the Observer) witnessed as the common banter of daily life fell back into place, like a jigsaw taken apart at the end of the day only to be renewed the next. Normalnormal _normal_ — _familiar_ was it all.

Kakashi came in, fifteen minutes late on the dot as per usual, blessing his students with a random, horribly made excuse before giving out the school newspaper as well as announcements for upcoming events.

The Hyuuga-hosted luncheon would occur next Saturday, where students and their parents were welcome to attend (a _routine_ popularity contest where rich people sized each other up, played plastic games and established the start of connections in a casual brunch setting). There was some theater play, then a musical recital, and student body president nominations (although the elder, senior class Uchiha was already a shoe-in for office fourth year in a row).

These were the little things that followed the path of Sakura's schedule. Constant, conventional, prevalent—all that she could use to measure each passing day.

What _wasn't_ part of the plan was an odd set of knocks on the door.

Kakashi paused in talking about which sports were in season and hosting intramurals and tryouts, sidling up to the door and pushing it aside. The principal's secretary—Shizune was her name, but Sakura wasn't completely certain—exchanged low whispers with him, then left with a short wave.

"Behave," was her distinct departing command, but a silly laugh only followed the short-haired woman—this, in a tone Sakura could recognize.

Suddenly, the anticipation for lunch hour reared its head right up front as in came the class newcomer.

Sunny smiles, bright baby blues and a sheepish grin took spotlight by the whiteboard, the junior clutching his bookbag over his shoulder while ruffling messy hair.

"Class," Kakashi drawled with a small, cheerful crinkle of the eye. "We've got a little addition to our wonderful family, hm? Probably pointless, but go on, introduce yourself."

"Naruto Uzumaki," he announced rather heartily, all pearly whites and radiance. The class broke out into greetings and laughs, all familiar with the Namikaze politician's son, and he reciprocated it with that charming, silly smile. "Transferee from Asuma-sensei's homeroom. Honored to be here."

Sasuke snorted somewhere, and Kakashi chose the seat on the other side of the Uchiha (the one unoccupied by Ino), and told him to sit there. The blonde boy saluted, throwing high fives to people as he passed. Popular and approachable was the blonde boy who looked like the walking version of the sun.

When he sat though, rather than immediately clapping his best friend on the back as intended, a cord of pink caught his eye.

Frankly, it was a lot like the world just damn well disappeared.

* * *

"-iot."

Naruto abruptly snapped his head up, a little confused. His best friend was giving him a weird look, arching one of those damned eyebrows while whisking through a geographic assignment for their social studies class with Yamato. While the Uchiha was now finished and menially skimming the textbook, Naruto had stayed hunched over his paper, doodling swirls all over the margins.

"What-"

Sasuke rolled his eyes and repeated, "Idiot." He then flipped his book close, bored. "What's with you?"

"What makes you think something's with me?"

A snort. "When _isn't_ there?"

Naruto spluttered, jabbing his finger into Sasuke's shoulder. " _Hey_ , what the hell are you _implying_?"

"What can I _not_ imply when it comes to you?"

"Ex _cuse_ me, Mister Asshole, who _allowed_ you to—"

"Uzumaki!" Yamato snapped from up front, "I suggest you finish your _own_ work before you go on bothering other students. Lord knows your grade could use today's extra credit assignment."

When laughter came from their peers, there was a muttered, "Sorry sensei," and then nasty blue glares were shot, all of which the young Uchiha deflected easily (it was a lot like swatting dust off his shoulders). In a more hushed tone—or at least as discreet as Naruto could possibly get—he carried on with, "What did you want, bastard?"

"I was asking if you're going to the Hyuuga event next week," Sasuke commented, scowling when his best friend threw a chunk of eraser at his knee. Could he be any more of a child? "I'm seeing him next period and might drop an RSVP for us if you are."

"Oh. Yeah, sure, thanks. I think my old man was talking about going, so yeah."

"Hn. So then at lunch we can—"

The bell rang abruptly and Yamato started hollering for people to drop their papers up front. Sasuke couldn't really finish his statement—what with Naruto scribbling down random words on blank lines, then whipping through his name at the top.

"Sorry asshole, I've got plans at lunch. But meet up after school, yeah? Later!"

* * *

It took a little effort, if he was being honest, to muster up the right amount of courage just to get to the damned lunch room. Passing between gold-inlaid double doors leading into the cafeteria (or more or less a "food court of gourmet dreams," as the Akimichi chefs working there would call it), our Uzumaki gent stood awkwardly in line for the gorgeous bowls of tonkotsu ramen, only partially present in reality.

The rest of him sat snug in the space of his head, wondering and worrying and outright _nervous_.

 _Hell_ — He combed through his blonde hair, sending a grin to someone passing a greeting. _C'mon, Naruto, snap out of it! People's man_ — _you're the people's man!_

He wouldn't be called the town's friendliest, the town's sunniest, the town's _son_ for nothing. Charming, but with a warm sincerity and endearing persona— _own up to that!_ And besides... this wasn't even a _business_ setting. _Those_ were grounds for the "fidgets."

Talking to a super pretty girl who you've _probably_ known all your life but never realized it (stupid, by the way), was _definitely_ not the same thing.

So why the hell was he feeling his armpits get a little sweaty?

Tucking the nerves behind a well placed smile, he paid the cashier with his loaded student card, pocketing the thing and pivoting away. He passed his usual table (Sasuke came up from a conversation with Neji to send him a raised eyebrow), waving to his best friend but not stopping for a chat.

Instead, macho Uzumaki chose to swallow back the lump or two in his throat and threw open the double-doors leading to the quad.

It took a little exploring, but within ten minutes and his soup still blessfully warm between his fingers, Naruto found the back-path winding into the other side of the school. The number of students lessened and lessened until barely were in sight, and by the time he rounded the corner and walked between marble-stone columns, only one other entity existed.

The awkward lump in his throat returned when he saw blush-pink lying in a pretty french cord, draped over one shoulder while the other pinched a phone to its owner's cheek. The distracted Haruno had her glasses-clad eyes averted, lunch box in hand, speaking in hushed tones.

Only a few steps away was he when she hung up the device and caught sight of him.

She sat straighter then, awkwardly giving him a nod. He didn't even realize he'd been mid-wave until his arm fell limply to his side, a faint fluster creeping along the skin of his neck.

"Er... hey."

 _Hey? HEY?_ Foot, meet mouth.

"...Hi."

She shifted her lunch box to the side, scooting a bit to make room on the bench. With a little difficulty—and _all_ of his previous enthusiasm from the day gone—Naruto sat down, fiddling between fingers a pair of wooden chopsticks and removing the circular lid on his tonkotsu ramen bowl.

Balancing with one hand, he began to dig in, savoring the flavor, the breeze, and beautiful company.

"...So." He coughed to hide a little choking when she paused to look. "Uh, so you come here often?"

 _Oh come on, can a blackhole just fucking eat me already_ —

And then there was this laughter and dammit, the blush just came without his _permission_ —

"This bench or the school?"

He coughed again, forcing the growing blush down at the sound of her amusement. "...Both?"

She smiled thoughtfully, still looking at her food and picking apart meat. "Yeah. I eat lunch here every day." Loose pink hair was tucked behind a little, peach-colored ear. "...I've also attended the Konoha chain for some time now."

So that confirmed it—she'd been right under his nose this whole time.

"And you?"

"Er... well I mean this is my first time out here—I didn't even _know_ there was a way ba—and you were talking about... the... school..." She looked to be fighting a laugh and he slapped his forehead rather loudly, balancing his meal. "I've been in the chain too. Since preschool."

"Preschool, hm?"

"Yeah. Did you go?"

"I skipped it."

"Aw hell, so you're one of those _smart_ people, aren'tcha?"

She chuckled. "You could say."

"Bastard one and two also skipped. And Shika, I think. Actually—who _didn't_?"

"Kiba Inuzuka?" she offered, and he snapped eureka.

" _Yeah!_ I remember that mutt. He always stole my damn animal crackers. When I tell you I was _pissed_ —"

"I'll take your word for it."

"Ye—wait so that means you went to Konoha Elementary."

"And middle."

"Oh shit! Do you remember that super weird history teacher? That one that liked to wear a metric fuckton of weird patterns?"

"Kumiko-sensei?"

"Yeah! God that old lady was so weird."

"I'd know." And she grimaced a little jokingly. "I had her."

He glanced over, staring like she grew two heads, which quickly deteriorated into pity. "How can you still _see_?"

"Why do you think I wear glasses?"

Warmth bloomed in his chest just at the sight of her, and letting himself go (not that he even put up much of a fight), he threw his head back and laughed.

It was with a new kind of joy did he realize she'd gone ahead and done the same.

* * *

 **Okay my little fishsticks, on this day 11/23/18, I've gone ahead and re-upped this chapter. The last version kept rubbing me the wrong way so I figured some _massively_ cute NaruSaku fluff was in order.**

 **I've found inspiration for this and AAOP while writing up Glory, and _then_ , woo boy do I have one other idea. I'm probably spreading myself thin keeping up with so many stories but c'mon, this is way too fun and we never know when another dry spell will hit, y'know?**

 **Remember this story's pretty lighthearted. Nothing massive, no _real_ bad drama. Just here for your viewing pleasure. Thank you!**

 **\- burrblefish**


	3. two

**Rated T for language. May increase in the future.**

* * *

 **BUTTERFLY**

* * *

 **two**

* * *

Sakura corralled her mussed, still slightly damp long hair into a messy french cord, securing the whole thing with a clear elastic one inch from the bottom. When most of the flyaways were smoothed, she pressed her skirt down, snatched that school bag, and headed down to breakfast.

Kizashi Haruno, head honcho of both the home and the corporate Haruno business, sat at the start of the table, all coffee-smelling grogginess and bored eyes skimming the daily paper. At catching sight of his only daughter, he let one wing go to reach out and grab her in a half bear hug.

"Morning dad," she greeted, squirming to pat his shoulder. He grinned affectionately, much resembling a massive chimpanzee clinging to a tree.

Mebuki came by to bop him on the head with a pan she'd been helping the maids wash and put away. "Don't go scaring your daughter so early in the morning, dear," she reprimanded, looping arms with her flustered baby in a hug of her own. The nearby servants laughed quietly behind hands, used to but still entertained by the morning antics of their dear employing family. "You act like she'll suddenly disappear from you one day."

The patriarch sighed rather dramatically, folding away that (damn _annoying_ ) newspaper to pout. Ah yes—the party animal young heir had grown into a giant, fatherly big bear of a man. How the years have treated him. "But she's already so close to turning _seventeen_ , Mebuki. That means I've got only a little over a year until she starts getting seriously courted." He grabbed his daughter's hands with his own, determination aflame in his eyes. "Promise me you'll find a _good_ boy, yeah? Or girl even! Anyone to treat you properly—but _not_ before _I_ approve, yeah? Only the best for my pumpkin after a- _ow! Mebuki!_ "

He cowered away when his wife raised the damnable pan once more.

"H-Hey, as a father I'm just—"

"—being a giant ass-crack?" Mebuki supplied, and he spluttered. Sakura had to stifle laughter by drinking from her glass of orange juice, struggling when she spotted the two maids washing dishes shake with difficulty trying to hide their own snorts. "Surely you know that _that's_ not a very convincing argument."

"B-But she's my daughter! I can't just have some sniveling weasel try to put his filthy _paws_ on m—"

" _Dear._ " He fought the urge to gulp. "Surely you trust our daughter—smart, reliable, trustworthy _Sakura_ —and her judgment, right?"

"W-Well," he meekly began, but nearly choked stopping himself at the fierce smile overtaking his wife's er, _beautiful_ visage. _W-What a scary look on such a pretty face..._

At his responding silence, Miss Haruno swung the pan rather ominously and he flinched, swiftly turning to his daughter with a strained passive look.

"My _darlingwonderfulbeautiful_ daughter, your _darlingwonderfulbeautiful_ mother and I trust you c-completely." Kizashi prayed slightly that his little voice crack would be enough to satiate the bloodlust in his wife and (fucking thankfully) it was. At least, judging by the newly made bright smile on her face.

 _Note to self: talks like these, keep only between me and Sakura. When dragon-mom isn't around._

Aforementioned petal haired girl only swallowed down her laughter with a bite of waffle, grinning slyly to her dad and snorting at her mother's winks. Really, quiet little Haruno owning two insane parents and you'd think she'd somehow catch the "crazy" gene. "Yes, _dad,_ thanks for trusting me."

"Y'know Kizashi, it sure is a good thing that you've decided to finally trust our daughter and be open to her love life. She won't stay young for long; give her room to experiment."

"Yes well I—wait, when did I give permission to—"

"Because after all, you're a smart man."

"Well, yes, that's tr—"

"And besides, that was a rather sweet boy yesterday; kind of him to drop you off, eh, Sakura?"

"Mhm, yeah and I— _WHAT_ _—_ "

And so Sakura proceeded choking, violently hacking up the offending piece of waffle when a servant reached out to thump her on the back. She nodded gratefully, gulping down mouthfuls of orange juice.

Kizashi all but slapped the glass away, frenzied.

"Sakura, _please_ tell me your mother's just screwing with my head," he panicked, ignoring Sakura's withered look as her cup tumbled into the arms of an awaiting maid.

With juice and glass intact, she replaced it back on the table but the young heiress couldn't nurse her breakfast drink again. Not with her dad looking like a lunatic and shaking her silly by the shoulders.

"What is this about a _boy?_ " _Filth! Absolute filth! When I get my_ _hands on that little basta_ _—_

"Minato's son gave Sakura a ride home yesterday."

— _I'll delete his kneecaps!_ _—yes, a fitting punishment f— wh— I—_

" _Minato's_ son?"

Kizashi blinked owlishly.

Minato Namikaze? _The_ Minato Namikaze?

The Konoha born politician known for his damn amazing, progressive, white-tactic policies— _his_ son? The man himself was a respectable entity; not underhanded, not questionable—a true gentleman's man when it came to the game. He was running for mayor in the upcoming campaign and already had more than seventy percent of the country's projected vote (Council was a different story, but they'd be stupid to not let the country's vote talk louder than the electoral one, really).

And well, he's met his son before, a few times when business dinners required family attendance. Boyishly charming, boisterous, a little odd in the head—though he looked the spitting image of his father, his mother was the true personality playing there.

No, not a bad kid at all.

 _Ah, hell. She just checkmated you, buddy._

Kizashi narrowed his eyes at his breakfast bagel.

 _Oh no_ , but he's still a boy with _hormones._

Unfortunately, one look at his wife sent him into another coughing fit, taken aback by the look of pure threat in her eyes. _I dare you_ , she seemed to say, _to fight me on this._ Really... did she know how downright _terrifying_ she looked?

"...Er... well... that's um. Good boy, that—er _he_ _—_ is. Heart is in the right place..." he trailed, piecing together the little dusty remnants of his pride and sipping his coffee delicately. Miss Haruno looked pleased, handing off her pan to be put away (or more like relinquished her weapon, much to the patriarch's relief). "So you've... been hanging out with this boy a lot?"

"Oh, he's been dropping her off home the past few days!" Mebuki chirruped, cooing when her daughter seemed to flush behind her glasses. "Poor Kotetsu nearly thought he was getting laid off since she asked to stop getting picked up."

Sakura fiddled with her tie. "I didn't want to burden him about it..."

"Well it's been handled dear." And then there was this sly smile and Kizashi instantly wondered _how_ and _why_ he married this terror of a woman. " _Sooo_ , when did... hm, y'know. You and Naruto...?"

And yes, she frankly _did_ cackle when Sakura's face reddened, much to Kizashi's horror.

"Mom it's not— I'm— we're friends!" The pinkette's fingers tightened around the tail of her french braid, unused to raising her voice. Low volume speech usually came out of young Haruno and it was a true blessing seeing the normally passive girl react with such vigor. "He just... spilled some ramen on me last Tuesday. I've been having lunch with him at school lately."

Mebuki nodded. So _that_ was why a fresh set of her uniform was shipped to their front door over the weekend—they hadn't ordered a new one prior.

"Is he nice?"

"He's... funny?" Sakura shrugged a little bit, hesitant. Naruto was good company when it came to banter; well he was a good guy in _general_. Just a little weird. And stared a lot, too, whatever _that_ was all about... "And nice. Definitely nice."

"Hm. Like 'nice' or like... _nice?_ "

It was Sakura's turn to choke on her drink and Kizashi shook his head, having given up on completing his breakfast now that Mebuki's mind had turned to flying everywhere at once.

"J-Just—mom— friends!" she frantically insisted, pushing aside her glasses to cover her eyes. Screw family bonding—maybe she might like having quiet mornings to herself more.

Wait.

So why _wasn't_ she having it alone today?

"Dad, why aren't you in the office this morning?" she asked, adjusting her spectacles and glancing to her right. The Haruno patriarch smiled broadly.

"Gave myself permission to come in a little later," he said a little smugly, earning a snort from Mebuki. "The company's just waiting for the sponsors on the proposal for some of those new children's clinics up in the north. All the formal agreements and yadda yadda—so I can get the go-ahead to talk to the contractors."

"What about the healthcare stuff?"

A maid had come by to give Mebuki her morning cup of jasmine tea, and the woman delicately stirred it with the small accompanying spoon. "I'm handling that. Minoring in law sure comes in handy." She sighed. "Healthcare isn't the easiest thing to handle."

"Mm," Kizashi agreed. "Insurance companies can be spineless little rats sometimes." And then he crossed his arms, irritated. "Of course, we could team up with a couple other companies—y'know, finally give that a try. Attempt to push a healthcare act and minimize _some_ costs."

"Medical bills _are_ rather high," his wife quipped. "Unnecessarily so, at times."

"Well if Naruto's dad is running for office," Sakura offered after finishing one of her strawberries, "then maybe you can talk to him? Push for some kind of change on the existing health policies?"

Her father stroked his chin. "Good point."

"What do you have in mind, Sakura?" her mother questioned, a little surprised that her daughter chose to jump in on a company conversation. She—afterall—hadn't been very keen on inheriting the business for most of her life.

The pinkette shrugged. "Well, to push for a new act, you'd have to go through a bunch of the government offices. That'd probably take too long." She picked up another strawberry. "But if you talk to Namikaze-san about shooting suggestions to the higher-ups, they'd investigate current laws and maybe tweak them."

Luckily, the Haruno matriarch covered her husband's gaping expression with a happy squawk. "That's _brilliant!_ Oh, honey, how—actually no, scratch that. It seems pretty sound to me—I mean, launching a new regulation certainly requires way more approvals. An amendment would take time too, but if we can compile the proof against unfair charging—and goodness, it's _great_ proof, too! And certainly, Minato would be on our side. Isn't that perfect, dear?" she gushed hurriedly.

Mebuki'd been a little stumped trying to find a workaround, stressed when she heard her husband was already waiting for contractors. What good was erecting more medicinal buildings and wonderful care if no one could even _afford_ it?

Who knew her saving grace would be her own _daughter_?

"Uh..."

 _Oh yes, way to go, dear husband of mine. Intelligent as always._

Mebuki thought for a moment on the next course of action, gears a-running in the head. And then she hit eureka. "Oh!" The older woman at the table clapped her hands. "I can speak to Yoshino perhaps? The Nara are _fantastic_ advisers, business or otherwise. And maybe even chat it up with Kushina! Ah!—sweetie, there's that luncheon this Saturday, right?"

"A luncheon?" Splendid. Kizashi had recovered enough from his dumbfounded reaction (when in all seven _hells_ did his daughter gain such an intuitive, business-savvy brain?) and gave both the women in his life a quizzical look. "Did I miss something?"

Sakura's lip quirked a bit. "There's another one of those meetings at school," she explained, helping one of the kitchen maids pile together the empty dishes for better transport to the sink. "The Hyuuga hosted ones. Most of the people in school are going."

"Great news, huh Kizashi? We can start looking around for a little backup on these projects!" his wife cheered, smiling to Kotetsu hovering in the kitchen doorway. "We'll discuss more later, alright? Go on, you'll be late if you don't go now, Sakura."

"Have a good day at school, pumpkin!" Kizashi bade, grinning as his daughter dropped kisses on both her parents' faces. She pushed her glasses up her nose with a little smile, then headed past the kitchen threshold. Kotestu had given a parting tip of the hat as greeting to the three-man family before following after the young lady. Seconds later, the front doors thumped shut behind the two.

"...Quick thinker, eh?" Mebuki mused, lips on the rim of her tea cup. She shifted, fingers on the handle, peering at her husband, all pretty, knowing, deep green eyes. "Looping politics in with business like that. It's foolproof since Minato's practically a shoe-in for mayor."

Kizashi's resulting grin stretched wide and prideful. It truly wasn't often that their quiet little daughter would show open interest in any of their business dealings, what with her originally bent on separating from the name and becoming a doctor for their main hospital instead of CEO for the whole company.

Although lately it's been changing. It'd be advice here, tidbit there, and each little piece proved an invaluable morsel of information. Smart and tactical was she. Perhaps there was hope of the Haruno Corporation's family-owned longevity after all.

He chugged down his coffee and waved a maid down to get his briefcase.

"She'll make a fine leader one day, hm?"

* * *

Fourth period advanced calculus with Ibiki wasn't exactly the highlight of anyone's day. Maybe the only good thing about it was the fact that it was right before Sakura's lunch hour, although sometimes it made the lecture drag on more than it should.

People would call it boring, irritating, or annoying, but no one fell asleep nor dilly-dallied.

For one, you'd miss half a test's worth of material if you so much as fall sick a day; two, because everyone was convinced that Ibiki used to be some type of torture specialist or prison warden in a past life, and would _certainly_ gut you with his dryerase board marker if you were caught not following directions. It surely didn't help that he was a veteran in the Third War rumored to be decorated with all kinds of awards (including a whole _Medal of Honor_ ).

In short, the man was too terrifying to peeve.

Although in Sakura's opinion, he seemed fairly companionable underneath that brusque, rough exterior. She'd once asked him for help with a particular lecture on antiderivates (the fucking rules—they kicked her ass _so bad_ in the beginning) and rather than "shooting her head off" as some people might say, he patiently flipped through the book and retaught the lesson carefully. Albeit intimidatingly.

So to be one of the very few slightly immune to that scary man made the period a little more bearable.

But certainly not any less droll.

Ibiki shut down the projector, ending the daily powerpoint lecture before taking a seat at his desk. "Students," he gruffly remarked, sending people spine-straight in their seat, fearful of being called up and solving a problem on the board. "Because today's lesson's shorter than usual and you're ahead of my other classes, you may begin on your homework assignment now. Use this time wisely—partner up, ask questions, and _then_ come to me. Anyone not working will be assigned more work. Are we clear?"

Mumbles of "yes sensei" circulated the room and he made a noise of approval.

"Pages four fifty-three to four fifty-five, numbers twenty-seven to sixty-three, all odds, due tomorrow. This is just a refresher on infinite limits for next week's quiz. Show your work, circle your answers—you know the drill." He turned to his computer monitor. "Begin."

Flipping open the pages of her textbook, Sakura adjusted her glasses and clicked a black pen to life. Already she fought down a sigh. Infinite limits weren't really a problem but the fucking _tests_ for the limits were a pain to recall sometimes. Damn—when the _hell_ did math go from numbers, to letters, to _theory_ so fast?

It was then she concluded that math had to be a _mood_ , otherwise all attempts were fruitless and a nasty headache would be left.

"Haruno-san."

The quiet girl popped out of her self-pity party and glanced sideways, spectacles nearly sliding down her nose in the process. Inquisitive, she looked at the young man sitting next door.

 _Ah...? It's_ _—_

"Yes, Hyuuga-san?"

The pretty, moonstone-eyed male tapped the face of his book, opened and ready on the designated page. "Would you like to work together?" he asked lowly, leaning a little bit to drop his words better. He waited patiently for a response.

Strange.

He'd never really spoken to her over the years, let alone _this_ year, where they've been sitting next to each other in calculus.

She recalled last week, oddly seeing him standing in the doorway of her homeroom , but shed the thought in favor of deigning him with a reply. If someone could possibly help bear the weight of stupid theoretical math, it'd be one of the men topping the school charts.

"Sure."

Neji nodded, sitting at an angle to better push his desk closer to hers. Once the two surfaces touched, he flipped her book closed, then nudged his in between their papers, pointing.

"I will handle the top half, you handle the bottom, we switch on the next page and complete the assignment faster. I assume you're proficient enough with limits?"

"As proficient as I can be," she muttered a little sarcastically, and his upper lip twitched in surprised amusement.

"Well," he mentioned, casually getting to work. "Let's hope it's enough to get us a good grade."

* * *

He'd blame it on impulse. And curiosity too, if his pride wiggled enough to let him.

It felt like sound reasoning in the spur of the moment.

 _Sakura Haruno_.

Yes, he knew the surname well enough.

The famed Haruno Corporation, a powerhouse where the medical industry was involved. They owned a glorious chain of medicinal buildings—the list included hospices, hospitals, clinics, and health wards just to name a few. Top notch was their care, with only the best teams of doctors, nurses, practitioners and specialists in the entire country. The couple was no pair of doctors; instead they turned a business into something beautiful and meant to help the people.

Hell—it was common knowledge that a little before the current generation was born and the last was thriving, Headmistress Tsunade entrusted her precious building (the _original_ Konoha Hospital) to the Harunos and retired from medicine.

She then moved on to continue her family's history of principality in the Konoha chain of education (and _she_ was one of the world's greatest medical _gifts_ , despite her hemophobia). _That_ put the Harunos right in the limelight when they were already a flourishing, trade company, thus shifting their interests into medicine. What a hell of a move _that_ was.

It's a shame they never searched for partnerships, really.

So yes. Yes he knew a little about _Haruno_. As much as public knowledge would allow.

But _Sakura_?

No, he didn't know _her_.

He was aware that the Haruno couple had a daughter, had even met her a few times at family functions. But she was such a turtle, he'd never heard a word. Just like her parents—actually, somehow even _more_ so—she was reclusive and a tad mysterious. You'd wonder how a full head of bright pink hair could possibly get lost in the crowd, but that was sometimes what unsettled him—she simply just _could_.

Only last week was he reminded of her existence—and what a surprise, he'd also heard her voice for the very first time in—what—the near eleven years he'd known of her?

Even the Uchiha and the Hyuuga, famous for their icy demeanor and standoffish behavior, were more open to the public than her and her family.

What a treat it would be to understand the makings of a Haruno—the powerhouse family that shied away from the spotlight and built itself all the way up without alliances. Even better if her, the future heiress (he assumed at least) would allow a company partnership to happen one day—that'd certainly be beneficial if he initiated a friendship with her, yeah?

Imagine his honest surprise when, last week on that same day she accidentally ran into him, he also realized she was his calculus neighbor. Since then, he'd been a little extra attentive whenever she passed by in the halls, trekked outside with the Uzumaki idiot. How on _earth_ had he never noticed her— _seriously_.

 _Just say hello_ , he figured. How lucky was he to hear Ibiki would give them some freetime?

* * *

Neji sat there, discreetly shooting glances sideways in between work (bless his quick thinking for putting the book in the middle of them; he'd be able to pass off his darting eyes for checking the problems).

She was a rather sprite-like thing—built sort of small and sweet like a pack of strawberry candy, though meek and devastatingly quiet despite the loud colors. There was an overall simplistic beauty stronger than the sum of her parts—each individual trait was quite plain when inspected one at a time (like braided hair, wide eyes, a button nose), but mash them altogether with her palette and it made for an aesthetically pleasing view.

Pretty—in an unconventional, unique sort of way.

A glimpse at her paper showed him exactly where she'd be in the educational ranking of the school, somewhere up in the top one or two percent with him, the Uchihas, and the Nara. So she's certainly intelligent too—that made him feel better about taking her half of the work and handing his over.

Nice.

He flicked his pencil to tap against the spiral of her notebook, indicating he'd finished just as she circled her last answer. In only the remaining thirty minutes, they'd completed their assignment, all productive, comfortable silence.

Neji drew out his cellphone and she picked up the hint, following suit. They exchanged papers, discreetly snapping photos while Ibiki helped a pair in the opposite corner of the room. Once done, the Hyuuga prodigy began his routine packing up.

As he glanced back to give his thanks, he paused at the look of disappointment flashing across her face, eyes peering down at her cellphone.

"Is something wrong?" He raised a brow when she looked up, eyes obscured by the mild glint in the glasses.

"...No." And then as an afterthought: "Thank you for working with me."

She set down her phone and slowly began to pull her belongings together. Quickly, so _very_ quickly, Neji took a glimpse lower and caught the message on the screen (contrary to popular belief, the Hyuuga had rather sharp vision).

 **From: Naruto**

 **Sakura-chan I can't make it to lunch today. Got a little light-headed in bio when we were pricking our fingers for the blood tests, ehe...**

 **I'm gonna head home early so I can't take you, I'm sorry D: Remember to tell Kotetsu so you're not stranded at school! Seeya tomorrow!**

When she turned to reach for her last personal object—the phone—he abruptly stopped her by touching the upperside of her wrist.

 _Now or never._

"Would you like a ride home?"

* * *

"Hey Sasuke, heard about Naruto?"

Sasuke's gaze flickered sideways as he threw his locker shut, catching sight of Kiba and Shikamaru sidling up next to him from opposite directions. He shifted his bag onto the curve of his shoulder, bypassing dozens of female—and the occasional male—admirers in favor of heading to the front doors, friends in tow. Blessedly, the final bell had rung minutes ago and home was calling his name like a siren.

"Yeah, left early. Couldn't handle pricking his stupid finger in bio."

"Wimp." Kiba snickered. "Dude gets battered all the time during football season. What happened?"

"Apparently, forcibly sticking a needle into his skin isn't the same." Sasuke scoffed while Shikamaru shook his head disappointingly, only fueling Kiba's cackles.

"So what—he fainted during class?"

"Nearly," Shikamaru quipped. "Shino said he practically passed out on the table and had to get escorted to the nurse."

" _Pfft_ _—_ so how did Orochimaru-sensei react?"

"By poking his unconscious body with a meter stick."

Kiba let out another bark of laughter, nearly tearing up at the image. "Bet the only one Orochimaru-sensei would want to be poking with a _different_ stick would be Sa—"

"Finish that sentence and I'll chop you up and feed you to your own dog, _mutt_ ," Sasuke threatened. And though the Inuzuka's mouth snapped shut, that damnable grin wasn't going away any time soon. Although the resulting glare _did_ minimize said smile, causing Shikamaru to roll his eyes.

"Well anyways, where's Neji?" the Nara heir asked. "I haven't RSVP'ed for Saturday yet."

"Dude, why didn't you do it last week?" Kiba shot a dazzling smile at passing ladies, half attentive for an answer.

"Forgot."

"Forgot or fell asleep?"

"Same thing."

Sasuke snorted. "Figures." He scanned the front quad and caught sight of lengthy cocoa-tinted hair, past the fountain, just before the golden gates, then nodded that way. "There he is."

"Ah."

Kiba leaned over Sasuke, cupping his mouth and hollering a, "Hey, Neji—"

But no, he hadn't finished, for he noticed that the Hyuuga male _certainly_ wasn't paying attention and _certainly_ wasn't alone. Kiba stopped, both brows raised.

"Who's that?"

Sasuke glanced over. Almost immediately, he fought to keep the surprise off his face, reeling.

For there, trailing behind and conversing with Neji Hyuuga, was the very same girl he'd been hearing Naruto babble over for the last damn _week_.

"Oh," Shikamaru had said from somewhere to his left, but he wasn't quite registering anything.

No, there was an odd itch Sasuke was feeling—something like confusion and something like this _irritating-as-hell_ curiosity. He wanted to know what was so damn great about Naruto's precious " _Sakura-chan_ " that even little Lord Hyuuga was chatting it up with her.

What was up with that? Was she just interesting or something? Just _look_ at her—the only thing honestly special would be that weird hair, and that's if you looked enough to notice.

He'd seen her a couple of times before maybe, that little oddball in the corners of the room reading books and writing papers. Maybe if he even dug deep enough, he'd figure out she'd been in the Konoha chain for some time now... but...

 _Who was she?_

"You know her?" Kiba asked the Nara, audibly befuddled at seeing Ice Prince Number Two having relatively easy conversation with a _female_. What was next— _Sasuke_ sprouting wings and sprinkling pixie dust on him?

"That," Shikamaru drawled with a bit of a quirk in his voice, "is the school's smartest and richest female. Little Sakura Haruno."

* * *

 **Damn. It was weird the way I shifted the tone out of the first chapter jdsfhks.**

 **Initially, I didn't know _what_ direction to take this story towards (business AUs are just so damn fun to write, but hard to find endgames for sometimes). So I can't really pick up from the original vision I had because I don't know _what_ it was.**

 **I _know_ I didn't want this heavily business based** **—most of the exploration of that falls into AAOP (the company types/focuses are similar here and there). The business-talk is just the grounds for how and why the characters are wealthy, mixed in with initial intentions (like Neji here, for example, who befriends our protagonist in hopes of future ties). The rest is classic high school AU (for the beautiful and rich, of course).**

 **Instead, I've decided to jump straight into banter so that we can make way for the romance and touch into the wealthy life/common ground of the boys and our heroine. Any more stretching and the pacing would be all sorts of slow. So do bear with me a little while I try to re-cultivate what _once_ was. _Ah...  
_**

 **And as always, thank you for coming to my TED Talk. Hats off to ya; hope you had a splendid Thanksgiving.**

 **\- burrblefish**


	4. three

**Rated T for language. May increase in the future.**

* * *

 **BUTTERFLY**

* * *

 **three**

* * *

 _"You know her?"_ Kiba had asked with all kinds of surprise and confusion in his voice.

 _"That,"_ Shikamaru inputted, _"is the school's smartest and richest female. Little Sakura Haruno."_

 _Little Sakura Haruno._

Haruno, Haruno, Haruno...

Sasuke _knew_ that surname and what came with it. Knew just as much as anybody.

 _That_ was the heiress?

Not some blossom-haired, jewel-eyed stunner, but a homely girl—soft and meek and small.

 _That's_ who Naruto's been babbling on and on about for the past week and a half? What kind of—what sort of person could possibly earn the eye of that blonde dolt? (Considering he owned the attention span of a _pea_ ).

And damn it all to hell—even _Neji?_ The guy that was probably just as apathetic as him and Shikamaru?

It'd be a blatant _lie_ if someone said Sasuke wasn't outright _curious_ —annoyed even that the balance that usually comprised of his daily life potentially seemed to be teetering on edge with the entrance of someone with _pink_ _hair_ —just about the _only_ external trait that seemed interesting _about_ her. He might even go as far as to say that had he not known of the last name, she'd seem like any other high-class commoner: family of new money with extra bank.

That's _it_ —that _should_ be it—but it's _not_.

There's more.

What kind of charm lied there? Did she share the same kind that the Haruno couple commonly held and showed off? Kizashi and his paternal strength and endearment? Mebuki and her maternal power and ironclad heart? Was heiress Haruno as intriguing?

He didn't know.

But _undeniably,_ he _wanted_ to, because if there was anything damn true about Sasuke, it was that anything he craved for was met and fulfilled—even curiosities.

Common public knowledge on the ever-elusive Harunos just wouldn't cut it.

So in lieu of it all, he went to the one who might know (or have access to) practically everything about the entire student body. Just down the hall of the second floor of his home, two doors away, and—

"Itachi."

If anyone would know anything, it'd be _him_.

The tone of his voice was curt and crisp, albeit distracted, and so the elder Uchiha looked up from his novel, reading glasses sliding down to the tip of his nose.

Dear Itachi peered over at his sibling standing in the doorway of his bedroom, taking in the odd sight of a disgruntled Sasuke in the rectangular entrance.

Oh?

Well this was certainly new.

Since when did his uptight, broody baby brother get like that?

Temperamental, maybe. But not riled up like this.

"Yes?"

He fidgeted just slightly, as if hesitating.

Since when does he fidget? _Hesitate?_

Itachi leaned up, shutting his book now that his interest's been piqued. Of course, the incoming answer to his question would've never been one he'd guess in a million lifetimes—

"What can you tell me about a 'Sakura Haruno'?"

* * *

 _"Hello_ — _Itachi, yeah?_

 _Yes—yes I'm in the Headmistress' office, I'm trying to hurry—I have the file pulled—whatever, yeah. Alright so uh, 'Sakura Haruno, female, sixteen, born March twenty-eight, blood type O'_

 _..._

 _Uh—no, there isn't—no siblings, parents are Mebuki and Kizashi Haruno—hey wait, like_ the _Haruno Cor— okay god, stop_ pressurin' _me._

 _Um, I have her class schedule._

 _Yeah, I'll take a picture._

 _I don't—there isn't really anything else, yeah, it just says like the basic stuff about her, I guess._

 _I mean her records are squeaky clean, I don't know what kinda dirt you thought I'd find—and good grades, too, wow, what the fuck—what rank is she, anyways?_

 _Whatever—if this is it, what's the fucking purpose of you sending me to—yeah, yeah._

 _Okay._

 _..._

 _Ugh, okay, bye."_

* * *

Neji stood leaning against the passenger door of his car, hands in both pockets, fiddling with keys and lint. He was the perfect vision of relaxed aloofness, calm and poise—a rather humorous distinction from his inner turmoil.

Though outwardly detached, his keenly observant moonstone eyes surveyed the outpour of students heading home for the day, searching for telltale petals in the sea of colors. And then when he caught himself looking too closely, he'd force his tense spine to relax against the car again.

Who would've thought that _the_ reigning Ice Prince of the East would be so anxious to make a friend?

Oh yeah, his father was probably turning soil in his grave, laughing at the expense of his only son.

Earlier, Neji'd exited his last class of the day (an insanely boring lecture in Personal Financing 101 with Gekko Hayate), hands shoved in his pockets and bookbag tucked between forearm and side. He'd bypassed Shikamaru's offers of heading to the Student Council room and checking to see if Itachi needed assistance in his campaign (which was frankly unnecessary; the guy practically functioned as president already—and since when did Shikamaru want to do _more_ than _less_?)

Although suspicious, the Hyuuga heir cared little about that odd behavior. There were more pressing matters to tend to.

For one, a hummingbird by the name "Haruno" would surely be surprised to see him waiting at his car. _That_ thought nearly caused a smile to flit across his face.

The Uzumaki had gone home yesterday due to some biology incident (really now—you'd think star running back could handle a little finger prick when he spent most of last season eating dirt from all the tackling), then stayed home today due to Kushina mother-henning the idiotic sap. And what with the routine drives home Neji learned Naruto would give Sakura, he figured it'd be alright to do so in his stead again. Kotetsu was it?—he can have another break.

And the bonus—Haruno wasn't _that_ bad of a person to talk to. Actually, he'd been pleasantly surprised to learn how _good_ of a conversationalist meek, wallflower Haruno could be. Quick, adaptive, but not quite sharp-tongued. Only witty and precise, like a concealed dagger.

You'd think her shy with the modest clothes and visible lack of designer labels; you'd even think her a high scholar with a full-ride if you didn't know scholarships weren't accepted there. But the gold detaile on her real-leather purse, the insignia on the hinges of her glasses, the pristine condition of her heeled shoes—it was undeniable exactly where she sat in the wealth ladder.

Alas—little Haruno was also a rich, spoonfed, silkbred heiress too. Like the rest of them.

And yet.

 _Yet._

She behaved like anyone else—spoke to him like _he_ was anyone else. Remove the money and the labels that stood between them, strip them down, and they were a boy and a girl and it was so _new_ and _inviting_.

And _that_ , ladies and gentlemen, was what piqued Neji Hyuuga's interest.

A person who could give him the same amount of mental resistance the same way Shikamaru could when he wasn't napping, and Sasuke when he wasn't being an unresponsive fish. Aside from what a camaraderie between them could potentially bring to their respective companies (because who _wouldn't_ turn their heads twice hearing the Hyuuga be the very first company that ever-elusive Haruno decide to ally with?), a friendship would serve grounding and humbling, entertaining and amusing, with _just_ the right amount of sincerity.

Little things like that were exactly what people like them needed to remember to never forget.

* * *

Shikamaru Nara leaned against the school's walls, right beside the gates, flicking the ash off his cigarette while licking the flesh of his lower lip. Though the image of detachment, he, too, held narrowed, watchful eyes at the resting Hyuuga across the front lot of the school.

 _Now why is Neji Hyuuga standing over there?_

Because for one, Shikamaru had caught Neji on the way out of Hayate-sensei's class, asking him, _"Do you want to head down to the Student Council room? Itachi'd want us to check over his acceptance speech,"_ since the presidential campaign ended next month.

But body language told the Nara his friend wasn't listening. Flickering, distant eyes, tense shoulders, some papers oddly sticking out of his bookbag when neatfreak Hyuuga usually had a knack for order—they were the signs of someone distracted and wanting to get away.

And then the brunette boy went and said, _"Busy. I'll see you tomorrow."_ At the luncheon—right—but Shikamaru's suspicious hum went unnoticed because weird, _weird_ Hyuuga fled down the hallway, twisting and turning his head this way and that, then disappeared around a corner.

 _Odd._

 _Odd, indeed._

What was even odder?

That same "busy" Hyuuga standing—pretty relaxed—against his car like there was nary a care in the world. Had Shikamaru gone ahead to the council room on his own, he would've missed this. But no, he'd been quite suspicious, dropped Itachi a call and told him Sasori would help in his stead for today, then headed for the front gates where he knew Sasuke would eventually pull up to give him and Kiba rides home.

Neither were there yet, so Shikamaru sat by, watching the show his fibbing friend decided to put on.

 _Ah._

 _So that's why_.

His answers—surprisingly yet unsurprisingly enough—came in the form of blush-colored hair.

It appeared at the rightmost corner of his eye, popping between gold gates and walking in a rather compressed form. The long tail of braided pink drifted carelessly in the spring breeze, its owner's head hunched forward and tucked between the pages of a—was that Shakespeare?—a book of _Othello_. One he was familiar with, since his advanced Literature and Composition teacher, Kakashi-sensei, had assigned it for the unit.

Shikamaru flicked ash again, timed perfectly with the way Neji visibly—and truly—removed tension from his body, focus zeroed in on the wealthy Haruno oblivious to his presence.

As she made to cross the school's front, circular driveway, brushing right past his car, he stepped to the side and called out her name.

The Nara watched, eerily observant of the way " _Sakura-san_ " fell from the aloof Hyuuga's lips like water to a dry mouth.

 _Odd_.

The young woman popped her head up from between pages, glancing off towards Neji in question. Words were exchanged, gestures were made, and Neji seemed to nod towards his vehicle.

When disappointment flashed across the Hyuuga's face, directly following a little bow from Haruno's head, Shikamaru concluded that he was offering yet another ride and she seemed to be rejecting this time. He chuckled softly, lips savoring his cigarette at the well-hidden, humorously dejected expression taking shelter on Neji's visage.

 _Never knew he'd be capable of making a face like that_ , he acknowledged bemusedly.

And then a flash of blonde and orange came walking from his left-side peripheral and Shikamaru turned his head, shocked at the random entrance of the newcomer.

For there stood his absentee friend, clad in casual clothes and sporting a little band-aid on his right index, but lacking the usual skip in his step.

No, because for one, he looked to have murder in his every pore.

 _Naruto?_

Since when was he here?

 _Why_ was he here?

Why does he seem so _mad_?

"Naruto—"

He _did_ try to call out, but it fell on deaf ears, and the laidback young man's eyes widened, spying the Uzumaki storming forth from the sidewalk. He crossed the driveway, right between two limos, and headed straight for the pair Shikamaru'd been watching this whole time. Neji caught sight of him first, gaze that was once warm little swaths of cotton turning into liquid mercury at the sight of the blonde.

Then Sakura noticed the silence, turning, going wide-eyed when she spotted her new blonde friend directly behind her.

In an uncharacteristic move—and damn, Shikamaru couldn't fucking see _anything_ with their backs turned to him, could only guesstimate using Neji's expressions—Naruto reached forward and put a rather firm hand on Sakura's shoulder. She seemed to keep her questioning gaze, but Neji looked like he'd been struck across the face.

" _What are you doing here?_ " was the question Shikamaru read off his lips.

"I'm giving Sakura a ride home." Naruto spoke far louder, but the usually enthusiastic, higher pitch in his voice was removed, stripped to his guttural speaking tone. It was the one he used in serious situations, usually saved for confronting his best friend.

"You are not." Neji had gone ahead and raised his volume to match, not one for backing away.

"Yeah?" Naruto scoffed—uncharacteristic of him again. "I don't think so."

"What the hell is your problem?"

"What's _yours?_ " There was a sneer in his words. "Since when did you start talking to Sakura?"

"Yesterday." Neji crossed his arms. "When I drove her home."

Surprise shook Naruto's shoulders and he suddenly let go of Sakura like she burned him, turning his head down to her. "What?"

It didn't take a genius to understand the girl was likely beyond confused. Even Shikamaru, who knew this to be some type of confrontation, couldn't understand the sudden hostility. Have they lost their minds?

That had to be it.

Sighing and putting out his cigarette with a stomp of the heel, Shikamaru pushed off the wall and began his own walk towards the trio garnering questioning glances. Most of the remaining populace rather didn't care—it was Friday and the day before the Hyuuga luncheon and people wanted to get home and prepare. Just a few passing looks were tossed that way, thankfully enough.

"Naruto," Shikamaru greeted, sensing the tension in the air far stronger now that he stood in direct line of it. The blonde didn't move, Neji's stare flickered, and Sakura swiveled her head to look at him. He ignored two in favor of one. "Where were you today? A finger prick couldn't have taken you out for two days."

 _Ease the attention off her._

Unusually sharp blue turned to look at him and he—for the life of him—pinched his lungs together at the sudden ice there.

 _Naruto's capable of a look like that?_

Seemed Shikamaru was learning all sorts of new things about his friends. And from what?—another glance at Haruno—over a _girl_?

Since when did girls ever get in between any of their friendships?

Hell, he, himself, had only seen Neji with Sakura just once—just yesterday, after school. Where the hell did he come from acting like _this?_ (Admittedly, he understood Naruto a little bit, he's seen the blonde hang around the girl for a little over a week now anyways, and he's a naturally clingy person).

 _What happened?_

"...My mom made me stay home."

Oh good.

Good, the tension's dissipating.

Naruto's reply came out on a grumble and when Neji scoffed and he glared, it was the normal kind of blue. Shikamaru inwardly sighed in relief.

"Yeah well, kind of wussy for star running back," he mocked, for once glad that that annoyingly high-pitched, indignant squawk sounded so distinctly _Naruto_. And when Neji joined in on the jabs, calling their friend "pathetic, weak, and moronic," he'd exploded into profanities and big talk about how much "bigger" his "package" was—as it always spiraled down to, grossly enough.

 _So,_ to save the poor girl from _that_ damn sausage fest (god knows Shikamaru's been pretty fed up with all the dick talk, no pun intended), the Nara genius craned his neck, discreetly giving her a little nod.

 _"G_ _o,"_ he'd mouthed.

Because he noticed her chauffeur ( _stupid Neji, you tried to give her a ride and forgot she's rich and has a driver?_ ) and didn't want her around for when Naruto started talking about the merits of "length" versus "girth."

Really now.

He had some disgusting friends.

Grateful, wealthy little Haruno bowed her head and pivoted on her heel, swiftly crossing the rest of the driveway, over the stone roundabout, and towards her waiting driver. He tipped his hat, opened the door, and waited for her to get in.

And when they were gone, Shikamaru's narrowed, observant eyes went lidded and body slouched, moving thereafter to reach out and bonk Naruto in the back of the head and pull him down by the neck in a lazy chokehold.

All the screams of " _Hey, let me go, you bastard!_ " went unnoticed as Shikamaru glossed over Neji, giving him all sorts of silent questions that uncharacteristic little Hyuuga refused to deign with answers.

 _What's going on with you?_

* * *

Saturday at noontime, press coverage on the outskirts of the school gates for the event went into a feeding frenzy reminiscent of shark-week. Paparazzi was slimy like that.

As each limousine pulled up through the circular driveway and photos were snapped of the Hyuuga-luncheon attendees (a beauty show that media fed on like _hounds_ ), it was looking to be a good day.

Blue skies, white clouds, sunshine and green trees that made Konoha's namesake—what a sign it all was for the coming of a clan birthed from spring. It was a perfect day to shake the world, so it seemed.

Just as an hour filtered by since the gathering had begun, a sleek white limousine drove up onto the campus property, embellished with a gleaming, silver circlet adorning the front hood—this, a symbol not many had expected to _ever_ see outside of corporate formal events or public parties.

No—every single person before those gates who bore witness, who _felt_ the surprisingly beautiful spring day in their bones—and yet not a soul _expected_ _this_ arrival.

The first to exit the opulent vehicle had been CEO and family head Kizashi Haruno, dressed primly in a perfectly tailored Giorgio Armani suit dusted in colors of deep, deep burgundy and burnished with a black button up and charcoal grey tie.

His head of dusty rose, blossom-styled hair fell in beautiful contrast with sapphire blues and sun-kissed skin. It gave him the fatherly countenance of a man, charismatic and kind, but nonetheless bear-like and brute.

He only surveyed the gates to take in the place, ignored everything else for the moment, then turned back to the open limo.

With a hand in offering, he assisted, and out stepped the Haruno matriarch—gorgeous Mebuki Haruno.

With short, flaxen blonde hair twisted into a low bun and deep, juniper green eyes, the woman looked the epitome of stone grace and blooming beauty. She moved elegantly in her cream-colored jumpsuit, every part the iron-fisted businesswoman she was known to be.

She gave her husband a smile, both sincere and confident, and he flashed a broad, kind one in return. And then back to the limo did he go, only to withdraw the third and final member of their party—a face _not_ thoroughly known to the public.

Such an occasion left too much of the general populace speechless and incomprehensible.

 _Haruno has stepped out of their seclusion?_

Unheard of.

And even more—it was for an informal school function for their _daughter_ , the one less known (if at all possible) than the actual couple themselves. _This was the coming of the Haruno_. What could it all mean?

With her father's help, out stepped the young heiress.

Pretty sun dress, white flats, braided hair and glasses—she wasn't a, say, _stunner_ , but owned a different sort of appeal. Softer, more delicate—take her out of the school uniform, and the ivory skin that colored her arms and neck and face became so much more prominent, and the blush pinkness of her hair—unique from either of her parents—was a youthful color.

The Haruno family—a true trio of springtime.

Perhaps the Uchiha were Konoha's Will of Fire, and perhaps the Hyuuga was the city's heart-and-soul of traditions. The Uzumaki—an example of the warmth and sunny disposition of such a place—

But the Haruno were the foundation of its namesake—the very seed and bloom of the trees—

They were, in short, a sight to see.

And what a sight it _was_.

* * *

Sakura had been left alone.

Not in a bad way—she'd encouraged the situation actually.

As her and her family walked the manicured, blooming path to Konoha Academy's gardens in the west wing, she quickly caught sight of the Namikaze-Uzumaki family standing close to the rose hedges, talking to a random assortment of parents and students. With an indication and a little smile, she and Mebuki nudged Kizashi on that way and, more than happy to oblige, he gave two kisses each to both women and slipped away.

Her mother found Yoshino thereafter, sitting at a table with Shikamaru face down, napping. With a fiercely gentle hug and a promise to meet when the luncheon announcements would be made, Mebuki deposited her daughter at their designated table and flagged down the Nara matriarch.

Unbothered by either, knowing full well the intention, Sakura resigned herself to a seat, ordering a cup of green tea and a plate of crepes to hold her off long enough before the lunch buffet building opened after announcements.

Licking the cream that gathered on her thumb, she munched on a bite of crepe, years of upbringing and mannerisms tuning her every move to a song of grace. Detachedly, she observed the many students in the garden—some who tossed looks at her in curiosity and surprise, others too absorbed in conversation to care.

Either were fine, for neither directly concerned her.

A chair scraping followed by a short thud met her ears and she glanced rightward in surprise.

Dull brown stared back.

"Shikamaru?"

He regarded her with an appraising look, then jerked his head from where he'd come. One glance that way showed both their mothers in intense conversation.

"Did my mom take your spot?" she asked, smile curving. He snorted, setting his chin down on the folded arm propped onto the table.

"Saved me, actually," he corrected. "My mom was babbling so much, I could hardly fall asleep."

"Narcoleptic or lethargic?" the pinkette pondered aloud. His lip quirked.

"Neither, really. Brain power on overdrive needs as much rest as it can get," he replied, shutting his eyes.

"So that's what it is," she mused. "Thinking _too_ hard."

"Always knew you were a smart one, Haruno." She laughed then, and he entered a half-smile at the sound. He then turned his head into the crook of his elbow, now looking at her with lidded eyes. "So what's this?"

And somehow, she knew _exactly_ what he was talking about, and it was kind of nice to be having such an efficient conversation.

"Experimentation."

Okay, so that was a weird reply.

He raised a brow. She nodded back to the table where their mothers were.

"My parents are looking for potential partners."

Okay, _what?_

Shikamaru sat up then, unable to hold back on a surprised raise of _both_ brows. "What?"

Sakura understood the shock in his tone and the extremity of his question. The Harunos, while kind, were notorious for being lone wolves on the business playing field. Randomly busting out intentions of partnerships in an informal setting was _definitely_ not something anyone could've predicted—even the _Nara_.

She twirled her fork in a puff of cream.

"The company's looking into opening up some buildings," she said rather obscurely, although he took no offence in it. "But politics get a little seedy when it mixes with business."

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Then that explained Mebuki and Yoshino together—Nara Advisory was one _hell_ of an entity on its own, and if Kizashi chatting it up pleasantly with Minato was anything to go by, then Shikamaru understood what this meant.

The Harunos were _actually_ finally turning to partnerships.

"This is..."

 _New?_ Should he say that?

It was so... so shocking that even _he_ had felt at a loss of words.

But she saved him yet again, reading his mind and laughing softly. A stray lock of pink slipped from that loosened braid of hers and she fisted the entire tail and turned it over her shoulder.

"Crazy?"

Yeah.

 _Yeah, pretty much._

And she nodded, like she was reading him again. "I know." Then as an afterthought: "I suggested it."

... _What?_

He must've been looking at her like she'd grown a second head, and when she laughed, he looked away, embarrassed.

"So do you think it'll work?" He glanced back in question. "The partnerships."

"I...don't see why it wouldn't," he replied slowly, crossing eyes between their mothers in deep conversation. "Anyone would be stupid to not take an offer from Haruno." And then he flapped a hand nonchalantly. "You shouldn't worry about Nara. We agree with your morals; my mom's probably screaming on the inside already."

She nibbled on a piece of pastry. "And Namikaze?" Her pressing didn't bother him; giving his prim opinion and observation ran in his blood. It was what made his family's company so powerful.

"Like Nara."

An exhale, and then a small smile, quickly covered by a forkful of cream. "Thanks."

He snorted, then gave what would be considered as a half grin. "Sure."

"Sakura-chan!"

Shikamaru had to fight the groan in his throat, burying back into the sleeve of his arm. Damn- at least the stupid blush would go away now- but did this peace have to get ruined by that _stupid_ -

"Hi Naruto," the pink-haired protagonist greeted, a laugh tailing her words. It was directly followed by a squeal when her body fell away from the chair, now nestled between two warm arms. "H-Hey wait-"

"Idiot, put her down," Shikamaru chastised, turning to look at the blonde buffoon bear-hugging the poor girl. He seemed to realize that the small choking noise was coming from her and quickly let go, red-faced and sheepish.

"Er, sorry about that." And then he quickly beamed at her again. "Your dad was talking to my dad earlier, y'know!"

She humored him with a smile, sitting back down next to Shikamaru at the table. In a pure act of fascination, his spare arm lifted from his thigh, reaching the few inches it took to touch the end of her french cord.

Between fingers did silken pink gain his attention, and he absently listened on as Naruto babbled out a, "My dad thinks Kizashi-san's pretty rad."

"I'm glad it's going well," she replied, honestly grateful. There was an undeniable bubbling deep in her chest; things were honestly looking up. Soon, that small dream of helping people would truly be within grasp.

"My mom was asking about your mom, though," the blonde continued, and it sounded like there was a little frown there.

"She's with mine," Shikamaru inputted from nearby, and it was like Naruto finally realized he was there. The pineapple-headed man nodded in a direction. "Business stuff."

"Oh so..." He shifted. "So _we_ get to be Sakura-chan's first family friends!" Excitedly, he sat in the seat on the other side of the girl with a massive grin. "Isn't that cool?"

"Fabulous," the Nara drawled, and Sakura laughed, nudging his folded arm on the table. He gave a faux glare in return, other hand still busily rubbing pink strands.

"Sarcasm suits you," she noted. He bowed his head in mock thanks.

"It's my first language."

Naruto rolled his eyes. "It's his _only_ language. D'you know all he does is make fun of me? I _swear_ , it's like I'm the running joke of the century."

"You kind of are," the Nara fired back, and Sakura laughed at the blonde's indignant squawk.

* * *

Neji wasn't listening to him.

For whatever stupid reason, Neji wasn't _listening to him_.

When did this happen? How? _Why?_

Of all his friends, the Hyuuga usually proved most courteous when it came to shared conversation—Shino rarely responded, Shikamaru often had his eyes and ears shut to the world, and Naruto and Kiba _combined_ had the attention span of a _walnut_.

But here Sasuke was, having asked a singular question that Neji apparently hadn't heard.

He toed one leg of his chair, asking a rather gruff, "What the hell's up with you?"

Annoyed ghostly eyes stopped their roving to settling on him, and then they narrowed into a glare. "Childish," he prudently stated, referring to the kick Uchiha delivered to his seat. The jibe was met with another and he grunted. "Nothing is up."

Sasuke scoffed. "Someone like you never looks around like that." To reinstate his point, he surveyed the entire garden filled with various members of their class and their parents, searching for something of obvious interest and finding none. "What are you even looking for?"

"No one."

A dark brow raised. "I didn't say 'who.'"

Neji froze so minutely, anyone else would've missed it. But not Sasuke.

And then he abruptly stood, shooting a little scowl down at the youngest Uchiha brother. "I'm going to look for Shikamaru." Without preface, he left, slipping into the crowd and exchanging bows and hellos where he deemed fit.

Sasuke only followed him for a short moment, puzzled when Hyuuga went _towards_ the brunch building, opposite of where they'd both last saw Shikamaru. Shrugging, he went on to give the place another once over.

There stood the Uzumaki-Namikaze mother and father, both sunnily greeting members of the general populace, warm as all possible despite the crowd so dense around them that it was a wonder Sasuke could even _see_. The natural shoe-in for the mayoral campaign cultivated quite the political following here, but even Sasuke knew that most of these families gallivanting for the Namikaze were only there to flock and flee after playing nice. _Plastics._

Kiba and Shino and their parents were exchanging small talk at their shared round table over a small platter of well-cooked pork belly and waffle bites. And when he searched further, he barely spotted his brother's head peeking from between people, talking to students and admirers alike for his approaching presidency at the school. The poster boy of perfection, elder Uchiha stood flanked by his VP, Sasori Akasuna, and his treasurer, Deidara Iwagi.

And then he finally spotted his idiotic best friend, at a table close to the entrance and along the pink rose hedges. Irritated with Hyuuga's annoying behavior, Sasuke got to his feet and strolled along, bypassing every attempt at conversation from both admirers of him and of his family's company.

He failed to immediately realize the blonde wasn't alone.

"Naruto."

Sweeping arms stopped in their wild gesturing, and Sasuke tilted his head in a nod at the Nara only half paying attention to him. When blue eyes glanced back, a little pocket of pink appeared in between the two boys.

The Uchiha—for the fucking _life_ of him—found that there truly were first times for everything. First time walking, talking, first time speaking and hugging.

First time feeling his breath stop short.

Ask for something long or hard enough and eventually, life did funny things bringing them to you when you never expected it.

"Bastard! I've been looking everywhere for you! Finally made it out of your cave?" Naruto greeted, wriggling his brows and elbowing his best friend. "I've been trying to introduce you, but eheh—well anyways. Sakura-chan! _This_ is the bastard I keep talking about. And Sasuke, _this_ —"

He gestured gallantly to the petite pink package sitting against the white garden chair, braid between Shikamaru's fingers, hands folded, eyes smiling slightly.

"—is Sakura Haruno."

 _Sakura Haruno._

 _"What can you tell me about a 'Sakura Haruno'?"_

* * *

 **Alright well—I uh—you know the drill.**

 **A couple things:**

 **(1) This whole thing with people not _knowing_ Sakura and the fascination with her family looks dramatic _as fuck_ (yes, I know), but it has massive purpose. I remember first watching Naruto not knowing her parents and BAM, suddenly they're on Narutopedia, too and I was like, "wHO, WHAT, _WHERE-!?"_**

 **I wanted them known, but not " _known_." The same for Sakura, and that's how we get to see people peel back all those quiet layers. She'll become louder, stronger, more carefree as we go.**

 **(2) The luncheon isn't meant to be this massive confrontation deal. Actually, the next chapter is back to school and we'll get to see more SasuSaku finally happening. This was more of like a uh, y'know, get the people curious and talking type of deal. Pacing will pick up more next time around.**

 **(3) Also, I chose to characterize Neji in this particular way on purpose. I'm a _fat_ NejiSaku shipper, _so-_**

 **(4) I really do hope these massive chapters aren't too much! A 5k word count per update can be hectic so let me know if you want it toned down.**

 **Seeya!**

 **\- burrblefish**


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